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by AlsyWalsy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, for someone's death, just a queen and her feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlsyWalsy/pseuds/AlsyWalsy
Summary: It has been almost a full year since Queen Meve stood in her personal rooms in the centre of Rivia, and now that she is able to finally rest her sword, emotions come knocking.





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**Author's Note:**

> I finished Thronebreaker a few days ago and have loved Meve/Reynard the whole way through. I just needed to write something. Hope you enjoy!

Fires burned beneath the window and far beyond, but for the first time in almost a solid year the Queen need not fear the columns of smoke. After so many months in the saddle, wearing armour both metal and leather, it was a relief to finally be standing in her own rooms, in her own soft clothing, watching her beloved city as it embarked upon the lengthy road to recovery.

This would be the first night back in her own bed and Meve was not quite sure if she was ready for it.

Things had changed so drastically since the summit that it seemed so distant now in her memory she could hardly remember what was said anymore. The weeks immediately after were a blur – strays, blackclads, monsters and betrayals. Everything was a whirlwind of metal, blood and pain and the feelings suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

There was a trembling in her hands that she was entirely unused to and she clenched them into fists. She leant forward until the cool glass of the large window touched her forehead and her eyes closed. The cool feeling was grounding and, slowly, the trembling passed.

In front of her men, Queen Meve was a golden beacon of strength. On her own, she could feel the emotions that she worked so hard to ignore. As a woman she had to work twice as hard to earn half the respect. She refused to ruin years of proving her worth as Queen by being seen in floods of tears.

Alone in her rooms, she allowed them to fall.

Tears streamed fast down her cheeks and she didn’t bother wiping them away; more would only follow and the fresh scar on her cheek still pained her when touched.

She allowed herself to feel all the pain she had bottled up for months. So much death and destruction had littered her fair land, not to mention those neighbouring also. She had seen countless corpses on the roadsides and had been responsible for hundreds – no – thousands more. People had lost loved ones, their faith, their homes and their livelihoods.

She had lost her son.

Villem.

The thought of her lad – barely past seventeen summers – brought fresh pain to her heart as a sob wracked her form.

In the heat of war she had hardly allowed herself time to grieve for the boy. Reynard had tried to insist she take a moment, but she had refused, stated quite rightly that the people needed her to finish this war and push the blackclads beyond the Yaruga once more. Now she felt his loss keenly.

For months she had hated her own son. Viewing him as a traitor to their people, how dare he bend a knee to the Empire dogs? But he had been brave. He faced her as a leader and stood his ground with a strength she had not expected from a boy very much his Father’s son. And he had died a hero.

She tried repeating the words over and over again but it did not lessen the pain.

True, she was not the best Mother; she had neglected her sons more than anything for most of their lives. But that was a price she had been willing to pay to protect the lands of Lyria and Rivia by proving she was not a force to be trifled with. She liked to think she had not failed her sons, and perhaps she was right.

Villem’s loss will always leave a hole in her heart. But she would never forget him. Her- _their_ – people would never forget him.

She wasn’t sure at what point she had begun fully sobbing, but she was well and truly crying with one hand gripping the stone trim around the window. Her other arm rested around her heaving stomach as she sobbed for the loss of every son, daughter, brother, sister, father and mother in this Gods forsaken war.

A brief knock on her door pulled the Queen away from her grief.

Uncaring for the pain nor the fancy robe she wore, Meve hurriedly swiped at her cheeks and did her best to look somewhat respectable. There were only a handful of people who would knock upon her door and every person on that list she trusted enough to see her in this state. It would have to do.

“Enter.” She was rather pleased that her voice didn’t waver.

“Your Grace, I don’t mean to intrude-“ Count Reynard Odo was a gentleman as well as a damned fine soldier, and took only one step into the room before addressing his Queen. But his voice fell quiet the moment his eyes fell on her.

Meve didn’t have it in her to remind him that they were to attempt being far more than Queen and aide now that the war was over. She just smiled sadly and turned back to the window.

“Worry not, old friend. What brought you to my rooms?”

She had expected him to immediately answer – ever the prim and proper Reynard she had known for so very long – but the only sound that reached her ears was the soft click of the door closing. She didn’t need to look to know he was still in the room. He was still in his heavy armour; he was hardly silent on his feet.

To her immense surprise, the silence was incredibly comfortable. It wasn’t as though being in silence with Reynard was ever awkward, but it felt right to just stand there quietly with someone she trusted so completely.

The clatter of metal against metal broke the quiet and soon there were a number of soft thuds. Confusion caused her to finally turn and when she did she found herself face to face with a simple cotton shirt, opened slightly at the top to reveal a patch of dark hair. Hesitantly she placed a hand upon his chest and looked up to meet his gaze.

“I am confused, Reynard. You address me formally yet undress without permission in my rooms. Whatever is a woman to think?”

“Forgive me, your- Meve. I had come to speak with you, to talk about what you said before..” She knew exactly to what he was referring and smiled. He was nothing if not predictable, her dear Reynard.

She stayed silent to allow him to finish, otherwise they may never get anywhere.

“But you have been crying.” A remarkably tender hand rested upon her cheek. His skin was hardened from years of hard work and soldiering, but his touch was so light and so welcome she did not even feel that aching in her cheek any longer.

Her eyes closed and she leant into the large hand. Fresh tears wet her cheeks.

“The war was long and hard.”

“And cost you much.” He finished softly.

“It cost us all. So many lost everything. I cannot end all of their suffering by throwing what gold we have left at it.”

Reynard did not speak again. Instead he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She could not lie to herself – to be against his warm chest with his strong arms wrapped around her was the nearest thing to perfection she had felt in years. He smelled of sweat and metal but it was not unpleasant. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest.

The couple stood in silence for several minutes; Meve lost in her thoughts and Reynard slowly stroking her back. She cracked a smile when she felt his lips against the top of her head. It was time to seek a little joy.

“You know,” She lifted her head and met his eyes once more, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. She liked the grey at his temples and ran her fingers through it again. “Your Queen desires a proper kiss.”

“A- a proper kiss?”

He was adorable when flustered and she almost laughed at the way his cheeks quickly tinged pink. Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she pulled him down to her height.

“Reynard, kiss me.”

A soldier always followed his orders.

At long last, his lips were against hers and for a brief moment she could forget the pain and suffering all around. She had been through so much and he had been by her side throughout. They were allowed a moment of respite in each other’s arms.

“Sleep with me tonight.” She whispered when they parted. The blush on his cheeks was far darker than before.

“S-sleep? Meve?”

The Queen barked a laugh and gave him a gentle pat on the cheek. “Sleep only, my dear friend. We shall save other activities for a time when we are better rested. I am looking forward to sleeping in a bed at long last.”

She paused at the bedside and glanced back at him. He would never see her as weak, not even when she quietly admitted, “I do not want to be alone.”

The adoration in his eyes spoke volumes. Without a word he moved to the other side of her bed and waited for her to enter first. She watched as he removed his boots and sat on the very edge as though talking himself into this one final act. Before long, however, the pair were comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms and were able to sleep soundly without fear of ambush or assault.

Despite all the darkness of the previous year; the future looked a little brighter than before.


End file.
